Verity

by Colleen Hoover

  You were going to kill me and make my death look like an accident. I had unknowingly written my own death in the last two sentences of my manuscript. “So Be It. Maybe I’ll just drive my car into a tree.”

  I realized in that moment, if you were ever suspected of my death, all you had to do was provide the manuscript. Had I died, it would have been the perfect suicide letter.

  Of course, we both know how that part of the story ended. I’m assuming you removed the tape from my hands and feet, placed me into the driver’s side of the vehicle, and walked back home where you waited for the police to come notify you that I had died.

  Your plan didn’t quite work out, though. I’m not sure I’m relieved that it failed. It would almost be easier if I had died in that wreck because pretending to be injured has been difficult. I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve been deceiving you for so long.

  I have very little memory of that first month after Harper’s death. I’m assuming I was in a medically induced coma because of the swelling on my brain. But I remember the day I came out of it very clearly. I was alone in the room, thank God, which gave me time to process what needed to happen next.

  How would I explain to you that every negative word you read was a lie? You wouldn’t believe me if I tried to deny that manuscript, because I wrote it. Those words were mine, no matter how untrue they were. Because who would believe it was a lie? Certainly not someone who didn’t understand the writing process. And if you were aware that I had recovered, you would turn me in to the police, if you hadn’t already. I’m sure an investigation would have followed Harper’s death had I not had that wreck. And with my own husband against me, I have no doubt that I would be convicted of her murder because it would be my own words used against me.

  For three days I pretended to still be in a coma when anyone would enter my room. Doctors, nurses, you, Crew. But I was careless one day and you caught me with my eyes open as you walked into the hospital room. You stared at me. I stared back. I saw your fists clench, as if you were pissed that I had woken up. As if you wanted to walk over and wrap your fingers around my throat again.

  You took a few steps toward me, but I decided not to follow you with my eyes because your rage terrified me. If I pretended not to be aware of my surroundings in that moment, there was a chance you wouldn’t try to end my life again. A chance you wouldn’t go to the police and tell them I had recovered.

  So I pretended for weeks because I felt it was my only means of survival. I was going to fake the extent of my brain injuries until I could figure out how to fix the situation I was in.

  Don’t think it wasn’t hard. It was humiliating at times. I wanted to give up. Kill myself. Kill you. I was so angry at where our lives had ended up, and after all those years of marriage you could even, for one second, believe any of that manuscript to be true. I mean seriously, Jeremy. Do men really believe women are that obsessed with sex? It was fiction! Of course I loved making love to you, but most of the time it was to please you because that’s what couples do for each other. It wasn’t because I couldn’t live without it.

  You were a good husband to me and whether you believe it to be true, I was a good wife to you. You’re still a good husband to me. You believe in your heart that I murdered our daughter, yet you still ensure I’m taken care of. Maybe it’s because you think I’m no longer in here—that all the evil parts of me died in that wreck and I’m merely someone you feel sorry for now. I think that’s why you brought me home because with all Crew has been through, your heart is too good to keep him away from me. You knew after losing both of his sisters, the complete loss of his mother would do even more damage to him.

  Despite what my manuscript stated, your love for our children is the thing I’ve always cherished most about you.

  There have been moments throughout these past few months when I’ve wanted to tell you I’m here. That it’s me. That I’m okay. But it would be a waste of breath. We can’t get past two murder attempts, Jeremy. And I know if you find out I’m faking this before I’m able to leave, your third attempt at killing me will be successful.

  I’m not going through all this effort in hopes that I’ll eventually change your mind and prove to you how wrong you were. You will never fully trust me again.

  Everything I’m doing is for Crew. All I can think about is my little boy. Everything I’ve done from the day I woke up in that hospital has been for Crew. As much as I don’t want to take Crew away from you, I have no choice. He’s my child and he needs to be with me. He’s the only one who knows I’m still in here—that I still have thoughts and a voice and a plan. It feels safe, being myself with him, because he’s only five. I know if he told you I speak to him, you would pass it off as an active imagination, or even trauma from all he’s been through.

  He’s the reason I searched so hard for that manuscript. I know, if you ever find us after I leave here, you’ll try to use it against me. You’ll want him to believe it as you believed it.

  The first night after you brought me home, I snuck to the office to delete the manuscript from the laptop, but you had already deleted it. I tried to find the one I had printed, but I couldn’t remember where it was. There were blank spots in my memory after the wreck, and that was one of them. But I knew I needed to get rid of both of them so you couldn’t use it against me.

  I searched everywhere, any chance I got for that manuscript, as quietly as I could. My office, the basement, the attic. I even searched around the bedroom a few times while you were asleep on your bed. I just knew I couldn’t leave with Crew until I had destroyed the proof you would use against me.

  I also had to wait until I could get my hands on money but I wasn’t quite sure how to do that since I couldn’t very well drive to the bank.

  When I overheard your conversation with Pantem Press about their brilliant idea of continuing the series with a new author, I knew that was my way out.

  When you hired an overnight nurse and left for your meeting with them in Manhattan, I snuck into my office and opened a new checking account online.

  Within days of that meeting, the new co-author was moving into the house to start on the series. Which means it will only be a matter of time before the money for the remaining three books will finally be in the account and I’ll be able to transfer the funds to my new account and get Crew out of here.

  All I have to do is bide my time, but the new co-author has been making it difficult. She somehow got her hands on the printed manuscript I’ve been searching for. I’m sure you thought by deleting the file, you were ridding the house of it. But you didn’t. Now it’s two against one. I don’t even care about destroying the manuscript at this point. I only care about getting out of here.

  I admit, it’s my fault she’s growing suspicious. I know it freaks her out when she catches me looking at her, but you can’t blame me. This woman has entered your life, is taking over my career, is falling in love with you. And from what I can tell, you’re falling in love with her, too.

  I heard you fucking her in our bedroom a couple of hours ago. As much as I’m hurting, I’m equally as angry. However, you’re so occupied with her right now I feel it’s the safest time to write this letter. I locked the door to the master bedroom so I’ll be able to hear you trying to get out. It’ll provide me with enough time to hide this letter and get back in place before you can make it upstairs.

  It’s been tough, Jeremy. Not gonna lie. All of it. Knowing you believed my words more than you believed my actions over the course of our marriage. Knowing I’ve had to resort to this level of deceit to save myself from being convicted of one of the most atrocious things a mother could do. Knowing you’re falling in love with another woman while I spend day after day pretending to be unaware of what our lives have turned into.

  But I keep pushing through because I’m confident that I’ll get out of here as soon as that money comes, which is why I’m leaving you this note.

  Maybe you’ll find it, maybe you won’t. />
  I hope you do. I really hope you do.

  Because even after you tried to choke me to death and crash my car into a tree, I can’t find it in myself to hate you. You have always been fierce in your protection of our children, which is exactly how parents should be. Even if that means eliminating the parent who has become a threat to them. You truly believe in your heart that I am a threat to Crew, and even though it kills me to know you believe that, it also gives me life knowing how much you love him.

  When Crew and I finally get out of here, I’ll call you someday and I’ll tell you where to find this letter. After you read it, I hope you’ll find it in you to forgive me. I hope you’ll find it in you to forgive yourself.

  I don’t blame you for what you’ve done to me. You were a wonderful husband until you couldn’t be. And you were the best father in the world. Hands down.

  I love you. Even still.

  Verity

  I drop the letter to the floor.

  I grip my stomach as a pain seers through it.

  She didn’t do it?

  I don’t want to believe anything I just read. I want to believe Verity is cruel and deserves what we did to her, but I’m not sure she did.

  Oh, God. What if it’s true? This woman lost her daughters and then her husband tried to kill her and then...we did kill her.

  I sit back, staring at the letter as if it’s a weapon that harnesses the power to destroy the life I’ve recently built with Jeremy.

  So many thoughts are running through my mind, I press against my temples because my head is pounding. Jeremy already knew about the manuscript?

  Had he really already read it before I gave it to him? Did he lie to me?

  No. He never denied knowing it existed. In fact, now that I think back on that moment, his exact words were, “Where did you find this?”

  It’s too much to take in. I can’t process everything she said and everything that’s happened. I stare at the letter for so long, I forget where I am and that Jeremy and Crew are downstairs and that any minute, he’ll come looking for me.

  I crawl forward and grab the pages. I shove the knife and picture back into the floor, then cover the hole with the wood. I take the pages to the bathroom and I lock the door behind me. I kneel in front of the toilet and I start ripping each page into tiny shreds. I flush some of the paper and eat as many pieces of the letter I can find with Jeremy’s name. I want to make sure no one ever reads a word of this.

  Jeremy would never forgive himself. Never. If he found out the manuscript wasn’t real and that Verity never harmed Harper, he wouldn’t be able to survive that kind of truth. The truth that he murdered his innocent wife. That we murdered his innocent wife.

  If it even is the truth.

  “Lowen?”

  I flush the rest of the pieces of paper in the toilet. I flush again for good measure, just as Jeremy knocks on the door.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I turn on the water and try to calm my voice. “Yes.” I wash my hands, then take a sip of water to ease the dryness in my mouth. I look in the mirror and recognize the terror in my eyes. I close them, attempting to push it back. All of it. Every terrible thing I’ve witnessed in my thirty-two years.

  The night I stood on the railing.

  The day I saw the man being crushed beneath the tire.

  The manuscript.

  The night I saw Verity standing at the top of the stairs.

  The night she died in her sleep.

  I push it all back. I swallow it like I swallowed her letter.

  I blow out a breath and then open the door and smile at Jeremy. He reaches up and runs a hand down the side of my head. “You okay?”

  I swallow my fear, my guilt, my sadness. I cover it all up with a convincing nod. “I’m alright.”

  Jeremy smiles. “Alright,” he says quietly, threading his fingers through mine. “Let’s get out of here and never come back.”

  He holds my hand throughout the house and doesn’t let go until he opens my door and helps me into his Jeep. As we’re driving away, I watch the house grow smaller in the rearview mirror until, finally, it disappears.

  Jeremy reaches across the seat and rubs my stomach. “Ten more weeks.”

  There’s an excitement in his eyes. One I know I was able to put there, even after all he’s been through. I brought light into his darkness, and I will continue to be that light so he’ll never be lost in the shadows of his past.

  He will never know what I know. I’ll make certain of that. I will take this secret to my grave with me so Jeremy doesn’t have to.

  I have no idea what to believe, so why put him through more anguish? Verity could have written that letter as a way to try and cover her tracks. It could have been another ploy at manipulating the situation and everyone involved.

  And even if Jeremy really was the reason for her wreck, I can’t blame him. He believed Verity maliciously murdered his child. I can’t even blame him for ultimately following through with her murder when he found out she had been deceiving him about her injuries. Any parent in his position would have done the same. Should have done the same. We both believed in our hearts that she was a threat to Crew. To us.

  No matter which way I look at it, it’s clear that Verity was a master at manipulating the truth. The only question that remains is: Which truth was she manipulating?

  The End

  Thank you for taking a chance on this book. It’s a departure from the emotional love stories I usually write, so I very much appreciate you coming on this journey with me.

  Most of my books are traditionally published through Atria Books, a division of Simon & Schuster. I appreciate all they have done for my books in the past and all they’ll do with my future books.

  Verity, however, is a personal indie project, which is why you might not be able to find this book in physical form anywhere other than online. It’s a project I was excited to branch out and write on my own, and I am very grateful to Atria Books for allowing me to have that opportunity.

  It’s been a while since I’ve been through the entire process without the delicate hands of a publisher, so I have a lot of people to thank. Bear with me.

  1) My mother. Always. With every book I write, it gets harder to find that same level of excitement I had while writing my first book. Without fail, my mother always brings that back to me. She makes me believe I have a brilliant mind, when really it’s mediocre. She makes me think the book I’m writing is the best book I’ve ever written, even though she says it with every book I write. Sometimes I’ll call her in the middle of the night and say, “Please, just read this one chapter!” And she will. Or she at least pretends to. Either way, it keeps me moving forward and is the sole reason any of my novels ever reach completion. Thank you, Mom. Your belief in me makes me want to believe in myself.

  2) My favorite group on Facebook, Colleen Hoover’s CoHorts. We’re close to fifty thousand members now, yet it still feels like such a close-knit community. When someone is having a bad day, you encourage them. When someone can’t afford a book, you help them. When someone has something to celebrate, you celebrate with them. There is nothing but absolute love and support in this group, and I will defend that ‘til the end. We have no room for negativity or (metaphorical) dicks. But we do have plenty of room for new readers if you want to come check us out. I LOVE YOU, COHORTS!

  3) Lauren Levine. I will forever be grateful to you for being part of the team that brought Confess to life. And while witnessing one of my books become an actual TV show was a phenomenal experience, it has been nothing compared to your friendship. Your support is unmatched. Someday I will return the favor.

  4) Tarryn Fisher. I don’t even know where to start. I’m very lucky to have supportive people in my life, but I’m not sure anyone wants to see me succeed like you do. You celebrate the success of others like no one I know. You are the Tarryn to my Colleen. Because you literally are.

  5) Lin Reynolds. You’re my favorite siste
r.

  6) Murphy Fennell. You’re also my favorite sister.

  7) To my granny, Vannoy Gentles. You are too sweet to read a book like this. Which is exactly why I’ll be giving you the first physical copy. ;)

  8) To those of you who are in my life because of the book world but would continue to be in my life without it. Chelle Lagoski Northcutt, Kristin Phillips Delcambre, Pamela Carrion, Laurie Darter, Kay Miles, Marion Archer, Jenn Benando, Karen Lawson, Vilma Gonzalez, Susan Gilbert Rossman, Tasara Vega, Anjanette Guerrero, Maria Blalock, Talon Smith, Melinda Knight and about two hundred more of you, THANK YOU for always being willing to let me run paragraphs, chapters, and entire novels by you. And for all you do to support my career. I love each and every one of you.

  9) E.L. James. Your successful career does not impress me nearly as much as your soul. You’re amazing in so many ways, but my favorite thing about you is the love and appreciation you have for your readers. You set a great example to authors everywhere.

  10) Kim Holden. I just wanted to thank you for being you. Keep being that. #DoEpic

  11) Caroline Kepnes. One time, years ago, I wrote half of a book in second person, only to be told by my publisher that one of their other authors was soon releasing a book in second person and I might want to rethink it. I didn’t know you. I muttered profanity in your direction, as I had to rewrite half of my book. When my publicist mailed me your book to read early, I cursed even more as I read it because it was so great. And then, somehow, we became friends after I sent you a message and threatened to murder you. I believe my friendship with you has a weirder beginning than any other friendship I have. Which makes it perfect. I am so grateful you are in my life. Even though I’m a little afraid of your mind. Congratulations on your new phenomenal television series. When YOU hits Netflix, it’s going to explode even more than it already has. I’m so excited for you.